Soliloquy for Two: Dissonance
by Fool's Gold -Pyrite
Summary: Caught between voices and silence, there can be no retreat - only a reckoning awaits. The last instalment of Soliloquy for Two.


Soliloquy for Two: Dissonance

By Fool's Gold

Disclaimer: Neon Genesis Evangelion and all associated characters are the property of Studio Gainax.

* * *

_"How disgusting."___

_The girl's voice is dull from pain, exhaustion and despair, but the tears on her cheek are not her own. She has learnt to give them up long ago, to shut the windows of the soul and barricade the chapel of her memories. The world is not merciful to those with chinks in their armour – it is a lesson that she has learnt far too well._

_The tears are those of the boy kneeling over her, her closest companion. He is stricken, not with the pain of illness, but with a terrible, gnawing guilt that consumes his vitals, as surely as the vultures had picked at the remains of the girl's Evangelion. He has chosen the path of loneliness and separation, and now he must pay the price. A gentle caress has tossed him from one realm of despair to another, and he is broken._

_But the girl knows nothing of his pain. The boy gazes into her good eye, and only sees the one who defiled her, the traitor, the murderer – almost twice over – and coward, all memories dragged forcibly from his mind during Instrumentality._

_And as she drifts off back into the world of darkness, she does not see the boy rise, nor does she hear the thoughts that will drive him to one last act of desperation._

* * *

She sits by the fire, hunched over her knees, her legs drawn in close to her chest to keep in what warmth remains.

She has aged a century in the blink of an eye; the limp strands of her red hair hang before her face like a veil of mourning, and the spark of life is no longer evident in her limp frame. And is this the fiery, tempestuous girl I once knew, the "Red Demon" who fought by my side?

No. I caused her ruin – I was the one who reduced her to this state.

The fire is dying, and I must tend to it. The pile of dry branches collected earlier should do the trick – I toss one into the flames, and there is a brief crackle as the stick is slowly consumed. The flames rise, but only briefly.

How long has it been since we washed up on the shore, the flotsam of a dead world? I don't remember anymore. All I remember are my filthy hands wrapped around her neck, a touch – "how disgusting", indeed – and the taste of tears. Everything else fades into the back of my mind, my memories reduced to a painful itch that can never be reached.

And yet a memory slips through the cracks unbidden.

_Two voices in the darkness.___

_One is cool, calculating, and impassive. All her life, she has known nothing but cold logic, harsh reality and betrayal. All things were merely means to an end – her work, her relationships, even her entire life. And now that the desired end has come, there is nothing left but to embrace it._

_And she is pleased._

_"Everyone fears the darkness in their minds; they try to escape from it and erase it from their consciousness. That's how they live. But no one can ever escape from it."_

_The other knows that this is the truth. She has wasted the better part of her life running away from reality, seeking solace in the embrace of the superficial. She would like nothing better than to stop running away... and yet she fears the alternative: to turn around and confront herself._

_And so she rages against it, against the destruction of all that she is familiar with... even if it causes her pain._

_"So you'll unify people's minds and make them complement each other? And you presume to make the entirety of human existence an experiment to prove your theory? You'd even use deception to further your means, wouldn't you?"_

_What remains? Only two voices in the darkness..._

_"Yet that is what you wanted, wasn't it?"_

_...and the void between.___

Misato and Ritsuko would always be at loggerheads, even to the end of the world. And where are they now? Consumed by the tide, engulfed in the waves of Man's folly; not a trace of them remains. But they knew what they were heading into, didn't they? Instrumentality was an answer to their problems, the panacea for humanity's pain. All it took was a simple crushing of the minds; a quick, easy filling of the gaps in human understanding, and all the pain of our existence was gone.

But I could not stay; I could no longer abide in the world of illusions. It was just running away all over again, reconstructing a glorious mirage with my convenient fantasies. In a world where nothing was real, it was so easy to lose myself in the absence of pain, only to realise that pleasure, too, no longer was. It was a dead end, a meaningless life – if you could call it life. There was no point to a mindless existence, lingering on without hope or meaning. And so I left.

Was it any better for me to return? Look, here is the reality that I wanted; pain, sorrow and loss lie before me, dogging my footsteps as they always have, ever since I was born into this accursed world. But there is no hope, no meaning – what is the use of living on when everything else is dead?

I turn once more to the sea, gazing out into the darkness, and a red, glassy eye meets my stare. The severed head sits in its own blood, the twisted remains of an ecstatic grin on its face, and I recognise it in my insanity as the face of one I knew.

"Alas, poor Rei! I knew her, Asuka: a..."

My mad oratory fades away in the dark, dissipating across the ocean of blood before me. None care to listen – none can hear me now, a madman amidst the ruins of the world. It is chock-full of lies anyway, for I knew you not. And for all Ritsuko told me about the Dummy Plug system, I would never have guessed your true nature anyway – a monstrous birth, a lineage from the mingled blood of Angels and mortals, and a purpose directed towards the end of everything.

What do your eyes see now, Rei? Do they see the wreck that this world has become, the madness of your creator's folly and the failure of his son? Do you know of the monster that you have become, or the one that looks upon you even now?

Of course you do. I remember seeing you for the last time, standing on the sea, as though you were bidding me farewell. And farewell it is, for I have renounced everything that was offered; the hope for a perfect life has been thrown back in your face. All that remains for me now is the cold reality of despair.

"Did I do the right thing?"

There is no answer. Only the eye stares back in a dead gaze, and the mouth grins in the cruel rictus of death. She mocks me now, and with good reason; for between the two of us, I am by far the greater monster.

And now, there is one last thing I must do.

I lean over to pick up another branch, my hands shaking with self-hatred and fear as I grasp it with claw-like hands.

Forgive me, Asuka... I do what I must.

The words are slowly etched into the sand, letter by painful letter, and every stroke is a dagger in my heart, every line a reminder of my past misdeeds. And as I write, the memories slowly trickle back, one by one, until the dam bursts...

With a cry that I scarcely recognise as my own, I break the stick against my knee and toss the two fragments into the fire. It is done! Grant me one final act of selfishness, Asuka, and I shall trouble you no more.

The remaining sticks are cast into the fire, and the flames rise into the night like a funeral pyre.

"Rest well, Asuka."

I stumble away into the darkness, not knowing where my ragged steps will take me, only knowing that I will leave all my failures behind.

* * *

I awaken to the grey ashes of a spent fire. The sun has risen, painting all that it surveys with the blood-red hue of desolation, and the horizon burns with a crimson blaze.

And in the sand lies a message of desertion, written in Shinji's unsteady, scrawling script.

_Dear Asuka,_

_It's over. _

_I've let you down. I've let everybody down. And now there's nothing left for me but to end it all._

_I lived like a fool for such a long time, thinking that there was nothing else to live for except myself. And I've done so many stupid things. I've betrayed everyone I've ever known, everyone I've ever loved, and condemned this world to destruction. And now, their guilt is mine, and it is a debt that I can never clear from my name._

_Instrumentality showed me how wrong I was, how foolish I was to continue living in selfishness. We could have lived in a world of illusions, where everything was perfect and nothing remained to hurt us. I could have undone all the cruelties that we inflicted upon one another, making things far better than what we were reduced to._

_And I threw it all away._

_I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I defiled you, I killed you, I cut you off from your desired freedom and happiness. And you'll never trust me again. So, it's time for me to say goodbye._

_Yours truly,_

_Shinji.___

I stare blankly at the damning words in the sand, willing myself not to comprehend the import of his words. But I fail miserably.

_"You finally got what you wanted, didn't you?"_

No. This was not what I wanted –

_"Admit it. You hated him for all the things he'd done to you, didn't you?"_

No –

_"You cannot deny it. You forget what I am and the place I hold in your mind; I know you inside out – and I know that you hate him."_

I grit my teeth in futile frustration. The voice speaks truth, but I will not admit it. I will not give in to this... this devil!

And in reply, I hear a mocking laugh in the wind.

_"A devil?__ My dear girl, I'm only a reflection of what you are. And I know how you hate him – how he stole your prestige and crushed your pride, how he threw you away like yesterday's trash for the sake of that stupid doll, and how he tore away everything you ever had."_

And the floodgates are opened. The voice exults in my complicity, taunting me and leading me further down the path of perdition, even as the terrible nightmares return with the fury of the storm.

I hate you, Shinji Ikari. Don't you realise what you've done to me? You've robbed me of everything I ever wanted, and everything I've ever had.

There was a time when the world was at my feet, when I was loved and admired by all. I was the best in the business, wasn't I? University graduate at the age of thirteen, pilot of the first Production Model Evangelion, the desire of men and the envy of women – I was secure in my abilities; I needed no one else. The past was gone, and all its horror with it; all that remained was myself, made in my own image, invincible and proud.

And then you came along, and everything was ripped out of my hands.

Yes, it was you who stole what was rightfully mine, didn't you? You hid your cruelty behind that stupid, sheepish grin on your face, and then you proceeded to tear my life to shreds, one bloody piece at a time. I am no idiot, lost in a sea of dreams and fantasies. I remember full well the memories of Instrumentality, and I need not be told of things done before. And I hate you for it, for taking advantage of me and then leaving me to die...

But I cannot let you go to your fate like this.

_"What?"_

The anguish in that gasp is almost palpable, and I can sense the voice reeling even as I make my counterattack. There is a bitter sense of satisfaction as I press my advantage, forcing the voice back with every word and memory that I can muster.

_This is Instrumentality – the cruel, uncompromising light that tears all the secrets from your heart and lays them bare for all to see._

_The girl is crushed beneath the weight of her past, utterly devastated by the waves that spring forth from the well of souls. Memories, long suppressed by the sheer force of her will, now gush forth unchecked in a ghastly torrent. All those who have betrayed her stand before her now – no, they rush past her like the flood tides, each one a crushing wave that dashes her to pieces. And the greatest wave of all is not her mother, who betrayed her for the price of a doll; nor is it the idiot, Shinji, whose mere existence brought her countless days of suffering and torment._

_No: the one wave that strikes her the hardest is the crimson tide, the one that she has brought down upon herself._

The pain that washes over me is intensified a thousand-fold; I hurt myself with every blow I deliver. But there can be no escape from this agony, except through this gate of memory – and only one of us shall depart through it.

Face your fears, Asuka. Every excuse, every denial, every single time you avoided the truth... do you know what it was that you were running from? You were running away from yourself.

The voice is shrieking now, the pain transmuted into denial. And the next assault is relentless, an unceasing deluge of memories and sheer terror.

_"Look at what he's cost you; look at what he's done to you, to everything you've ever known!"_

I turn to the bloody ocean, looking at the split head through vacant eyes, and Wondergirl returns a grisly smile from the remaining half of her face. The Mass Production Evangelions lie transfixed above the surface of the sea, silent accomplices to the destruction of humanity. And my eye itches; the eye that was taken from me so brutally now burns once again beneath the bandages that cover it.

In my anger, I tear at the bandages in a mad frenzy. I rip and claw at them, trying to get at the pain that can never be reached, until the linen is torn to shreds and the fragments drift off into the wind. And at the end of it, I stand before the morning sun, raw and broken beneath the light.

_"Your arm, your eye, your life...the hurt he's done to you can never be unmade."_

I look down at my arm, the pale scars winding down in a serpentine fashion from shoulder to wrist, watching in horror as they throb painfully in time with my pounding heart. This is the legacy of Eva, isn't it? The scars that will never go away, the anguish that will never cease... such is the pain that he has put me through.

The voice screams out again, a banshee's wail amidst the darkness of my mind.

_"You know what he's done – how he tormented and violated you, how he left you to die!"_

My insides writhe within me like a bag of rats, twisting and winding violently as I struggle to contain the revulsion that wells up again. And with every turn, my double gains strength.

He did it all: he abandoned me when I needed him the most; he crushed my self-esteem – all I ever had – when I relied on it to survive; he took advantage of my convalescence and abused me like I was a lewd, vulgar whore...

No! If there is one person who should be blamed, it should be me. Not him, not anyone else. I brought this fate down upon my head; it was my hubris and fear that caused my downfall.

_"Lies.__ How can you say that in the light of the things he has done?"_

The voice sounds almost cynical, even suspicious, in the face of my denial. But I must stand. I must hold my ground, or I shall be consumed by fire and vengeance once again, and my chance at redemption will be lost.

_Do you dare turn my lessons against me now, you who showed me the error of my ways? Was my struggling in Instrumentality all for naught?_

_Do you know what I remember, shadow? I remember a train. I remember a red-tinted cabin, and the red one who sat within, mocking me and calling my transgressions to account. I remember all the memories that she showed me – memories of those who cared for me, the ones whom I betrayed and left in the cold. And I regretted all that I had done, to no avail._

_Can you deny it? You, who taught me these things?_

_I owe him too much. For all the times we were together, I was too blind to see how he cared, too callous to realise that we both sought to be understood. And though we longed for compassion and hungered for the closeness of others, I could never accept him; I heartlessly cast him aside like trash, not caring whether he lived or died. I only thought of myself._

_Surely you remember how I left him to die when he was swallowed up by the shadow beneath the city, and how I wished for his punishment when he returned from the brink of death? I was ungrateful – I was too caught up in my pride to care whether he lived or died, too self-absorbed even to remember the time when he saved me from a fiery death._

_Surely you remember how I thrust him away after my ordeal, after the violation of my mind, all because my accursed ego would not permit me to admit my need, my desire for solace? It was not his fault that he did not come to my aid: I realised how he had been denied by his father, how the doll had been sent in his place. But all I could think about was my stupid self-worth, inflated far beyond its true value._

_Was it any surprise, then, that my world crashed down around me? I drove away the one person who could have helped me, the only one who was willing to even try to understand my life. I chased him away with curses and spite far beyond what he deserved, and foolishly decided that I would find my way out on my own... or die trying._

_And so we fell apart, he and I. I remember the memories as though they were my own: how Wondergirl turned out to be an abomination, the mingled blood of Angels – and his mother! – running through her veins. I remember a white-haired boy with eyes of scarlet: last of the Angels, and first to reach out to the one I had spurned. And I remember the death that surrounded us as we fought, and how the Shinji that I once knew no longer existed. The one who pleasured himself before my unknowing body, the one who betrayed me and left me to die, the one who delivered this world to damnation – that was not Shinji. Only his body remained, an empty shell, devoid of the soul that I had helped to break._

_And so, do you see why I must find him? If he should be lost once again, then my last chance at redemption is gone. There will be nothing left but the sea of illusions – and I am tired of running away._

And there is no response; the voice is mercifully silent. I pick myself up from the scattered ruins of my recollection, hot tears and cold sweat mingling in a brief, dying stream, and force myself to advance along the beach.

I have had too much experience in running away.

* * *

There he is.

He kneels at the edge of the cliff, his head bowed, almost as though he was doing penance for his sins. I advance, but he does not stir; he has not heard me at all.

And I pause silently behind him.

"...you're not getting away that easily, Third Child."

He slowly turns to face me, even as I find myself frozen to the spot by his haunting visage. His cheeks are sallow, his face thin with weakness; the lines on his face are deep, as though they were etched in stone.

But his eyes... his eyes are empty. All I see are dark pools, black on white, windows to an empty, broken soul. And those eyes are familiar, for they belong to memories that were not mine... yet I have seen those eyes before. They are the eyes of the hollow boy, the detestable villain who condemned me to an endless torment by my memories. And once more, the vile sensation wells up from within my bowels, a nauseous churning that threatens my sanity. I fight back the desperate urge to kill him there and then, to simply grant him his wish – to let him die.

And he speaks.

"So, you've woken up at last. I was wondering when you'd come to."

The voice that meets mine is a weak whimper, nearly drowned out by the sound of the tides. But in that voice, I hear too many regrets: one for each crime committed, one for every life lost. And he speaks too coldly for his own good, like one numbed by the horrors of the world; yet he shivers, not from the frost in his words, but from the fear that he yet faces.

And so it boils down to this, Shinji: you're too cowardly to even take your own life.

He sees the realisation in my face, and smiles weakly, almost embarrassed at his lack of resolve. Look at that pathetic expression on his face! My fingers itch; I barely resist the temptation to strike him down here and now.

No. I cannot fall now, not while everything hinges on this one moment.

_"Do it. Have your revenge."_

I grit my teeth, willing my body to cease its trembling, trying everything within my power to stop myself from doing something stupid. Depart from me, vile shadow – do not provoke me! But it is too late: the old wounds have been reopened, and I cannot hold back the final wave that courses through my mind, flooding out all other emotions and doubts.

"Yes."

And I succumb. I lunge at him like a maddened beast, rage and resentment spurring me on. The scarlet mist washes over my mind, blotting out the cry for restraint that dies stillborn in my thoughts. And in my head, I can just barely make out a strange, dissonant sound, a note of discord that gives its identity away.

It is the voice, mocking my insanity. And even as I rush onwards, a small part of me cries out, bemoaning my betrayal into the hands of the one who goaded me into this act of madness. But it is too late – the venom of anger has taken its hold; there is no turning back.

And he flinches.

He takes one step back, the look in his eyes betraying a small flicker of surprise. No matter how badly he wants to die, a small part of him still rebels against it, fighting for survival. And I catch the faintest glimpse of the Shinji I once knew: the boy who cared, the frightened child with a redeeming streak of foolish courage...

_A dance of defiance plays itself out to a strange tune: the two move as one before the enemy, their awkward movements replaced by the seamless coordination born of forced acceptance. And it works._

_A hand reaches beneath the scorching magma, seemingly oblivious to the pain that courses up its arm – and by association, the arm of he who controls it. All he knows is that she needs help, and he will provide it, whatever the cost._

_A kiss beneath the fading daylight, rising from the depths of boredom – or perhaps it grew from something deeper? Beneath the shallow, facetious quips and the insults, there lies a dark, sad undercurrent that will not go away. Perhaps she should never have made that comment about mothers._

_And finally, a soft caress flies in the face of desperation, and tears fall in the darkness._

...and that is all I need.

* * *

I look at her through the eyes of a dead man.

She stands behind me, the phoenix reborn. Her plugsuit blazes red in the morning light, and she trembles, not from weakness, but from the sheer hatred that even now fuels her vitality.

She stands there like a Valkyrie of old, waiting for the fallen. But it is no warrior that she will send to the afterlife, but a traitor and fiend; her rage is that of the Furies, and she has come to avenge. Her fists are clenched, and I can feel her anger even from where I stand, a burning anger that can only be quenched with my blood. And I stand uncaring, waiting for her judgement. Now you may have your revenge; take it, and be at peace.

My mind wavers, and a final memory stirs from its depths, the last tale to be told.

I gaze once more into her blue eyes –

Her eyes. Where a gaping hole should have been, her left eye now sits, matching its twin with a fiery intensity unmatched by any furnace.

And for a brief moment, the sight is a bitter consolation, a sign that I have, perhaps, done something right in this life. But what is that but a drop in the ocean, a mere pittance compared to the debt which I cannot pay? It cannot make up for all the evil deeds that I have committed in the name of my selfish desires.

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and life for life. That is how the rules are, and it is now time to pay the price.

"Yes."

The word is spat from her mouth like bitter poison, a guttural, pained groan from her tortured soul. And yet its sentence rings out across the empty horizon, as final as a rifle's report.

Death.

With that one word, she lunges at me violently, her eyes blazing with an unholy rage as I am taken down. This is it, then; a fitting end, a perfect contrapasso to my cursed life. And I am falling –

– and cold stone rushes up to meet my face.

And for a few moments in eternity, I just lie there, uncomprehending and stunned. The world is still once again: even the waves and the wind are silent, and the voice that tormented me no longer speaks. And out of the silence comes a voice. It is a weak whisper, pained and sorrowful, and yet there lies within it a bittersweet note of release.

"Idiot."

I turn my head once more to face it, scraping flesh against the harsh rock, and beautiful blue eyes meet my gaze, eyes set in the familiar face of the one who would – who should! – have killed me. And the eyes are not the ones I remember from a time long forgotten: they do not overflow with hatred, arrogance and jealousy, and they no longer remain windows to a closed mind, barred and shuttered against the terrors of her past. But what is it that they hold now?

I look into those eyes again, into the dark pupils within the sea of blue, and I catch a brief glimpse of the reality before me –

_He stands before the two Angels. They look at him with eyes of compassion: it would never have been otherwise. After all, they are the only ones who continue to anchor him to the truth, to prevent him from drifting away with the tide for good._

_"What are you two within my heart?"_

_And they speak with glorious voices that soar through the space between them, illuminating that which he seeks._

_The girl speaks first, her face and voice revealing no emotion. But her words – the words she speaks are as a lifeline to him, he who drowns in a sea of nothingness._

_"Hope... the hope that people might be able to understand each other."_

_And now it is the boy's turn to speak, and his words are a chorus of joy, lifting the listener from the depths of despair._

_"And the words, 'I love you'."_

_Such things... can they be true? Are they not just pretence, like everything else in this world? But he wants to believe..._

_But that's just pretending - a self-intoxicating belief... like a prayer._

_It can't possibly last forever._

_Sooner or later I'll be betrayed... and they'll leave me._

_Still... I want to meet them again, because I believe my feelings at that time were real._

– and at the core I see a faint figure, a foreign image within the montage of glory.

I see myself reflected in those eyes.

Her lips are pale; her mouth curves slowly into a slight smile, a smile tinged with a sense of sadness and the last remains of a broken pride. And she says,

"This is why I can't let you die."

I can hear a tone of regret in those words, a sad melody set in a minor key. And I am mortally shamed by my cowardice and traitorous deeds – I am unworthy of this reprieve. I cannot be forgiven for all the things I have done to you, Asuka, and...

_I hate myself._

_But...__ I may be able to love myself._

_I might be allowed to stay here._

_I am no more and no less than myself._

A last memory of Instrumentality drifts away with the morning breeze. A false world, constructed on the ashes of what was once real... yet the words remain as I remember them – they remain true. And perhaps there remains a glimmer of hope, lying in the dust of this ruined world.

I take her scarred hand in mine, and feel, for the first time in an eternity, the warmth of another human's touch. And she does not shrink back from my grasp, as I had once imagined; she accepts it willingly, and her hand grips mine with no more than a faint tremble.

And as the first dark shapes rise out of the ocean, apparitions in a dreamscape, there are no words to describe my feelings. But I speak, nevertheless. One word, little more than cold comfort in the face of this unknown future, but it is all I can say even as we rise to meet it.

"Thanks."

* * *

Author's notes: This is the final instalment of Soliloquy for Two. Odd, considering that the original title was supposed to refer to two voices from one person – now I have two people and stilled voices.

Last Rites is set during Instrumentality, and Bloody Hands falls somewhere in the middle of this fic. Read them if you haven't already, just for the sake of completeness.

Thanks to King Alar for constructive criticism.


End file.
